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PRICE IS CENTS. 


MARGUERITE 

. . . OR . . . 

A WILD FLOWER. 


BY J 

ROSE ANNA LEIGH. 


PUBLISHED BY ' 

THE SHOWALTER=LINCOLN CO. 

DALLAS, TEXAS. 


Copyright, 1893, by H. N. LINCOLN. 


f 


/ 




MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER 

By ROSE ANNA EEIGH. 

Copyright, 1893, by H. N, LINCOLN* 


CHAPTER I. 

THE WILD FLOWER. 

Come while in freshness and dew it lies^ 

To the world that is under the free Hue skies: 

Leave ye man^s home and forget his care. 

There breathes no sigh on the day-springs airJ*^ 

On the picturesque shores of a small, but beautiful lake in 
the Southern part of the State of ; where hunting and fish- 

ing is good, Koland Lee finds himself with his faithful pointer at 
his si(k, ready to make good use of the few day’s recreation, 
snatched from his busy life in the city. 

He pauses at the water’s edge to take in the surroundings 
before getting into his boat and is filled with deep pleasure at the 
beautiful scenery. Looking South across the lake are large trees, 
spreading their graceful branches over the water, making long 
slanting shadows; the sun is just showing his face over the rugged 
cliffs to the East; and his red rays thrown on the glassy surface 
of the lake, reflect long fiery spikes in its depths. Following 
their dii-ection, and looking still further up the river, a golden 
sand-bar glistening with broken shells and bright pebbles, pro- 
jects itself into the water, and on it a huge dead tree, with dark 
crooked roots upturned in contrast with the white sand and glisten- 
ing shells. 


4 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

With the great ideality inherited from his gentle mother, 
Roland drinks in the pretty scene, and with the keen insight for 
business, which was a characteristic of his father, he knows there 
must be game in those dark woods and rugged cliffs, and fish be- 
neath the calm exterior of the lake. 

He ceases to gaze longer at the landscape : whistles to his 
faithful pointer, jumps in the boat and pushes away from the bank 
with those youthful vigorous strokes, that only those who know 
and love such sport can understand. 

While he pulls vigorously up the stream we will look at oiir 
hero. He is somewhat above medium height, having one of those 
superior faces, which at once shows great intellect and refinement, 
his eyes are blue with the sparkle of a purpose in them — a firm 
mouth with light moustache, fair wavy locks above a broad fore- 
head. The face is somewhere called a^ index to the soul, and here 
we find it so, for Roland’s face is fair and handsome as his soul is 
good and true. 

His father and mother died, leaving him when quite small to 
the care of an older sister who married a wealthy man, and hav- 
ing no children of her own, lavished her wealth on this brother; 
letting her loving generous heart go out to him and making him 
her greatest pride and joy, and he was now at the age of twenty- 

six one of the most brilliant lawyers in the city of D . His 

partner, Mr. Morrell, a fine lawyer many years Roland’s senior, 
pictured for him a very bright future, and a friendship had grown 
between these two men, that proved to be as lasting as it was un- 
common. 

Mr. Morrell had sailed for America some years past, with ■ 
his wife and little three year old daughter, when a storm wrecked 
the vessel, and they were torn from him, and from every evidence 
he could gather they were drowned. Since then the only dear 
friend in the world, so dark to him, was Roland, to him he con- 
fided his troubles and found a sympathizing companion. 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 5 

. Often when Eoland left the bachelor’s den’^ — as they called 
it — in the evenings to attend some affair of the social world; the 
old man looking at his proud figure and handsome face, would 
sigh deeply as the thought came to him, that someone might come 
between them, and end their companionship, the thought made 
him sad: not so Mrs. Zuber — Eoland’s proud sister — his college 
days over, his profession decided, next in importance to her, seemed 
a wife, and she at once took the selection of one into her own 
hands, she was so afraid Eoland would make an unwise choice, 
and spoil everything.’’ He greatly displeased her very often, 
because he would not fall heedlessly in love with some choice she 
made for* him. But Eoland’s heart called for something more 
than pretty faces, sparkling diamonds, horses and carriages ; he 
must find in the woman he chooses for a wife a true and warm 
heart. His sister’s favorites were often educated, beautiful and 
accomplished ; his mental capacities often responded, but his heart 
had so far failed to do so, there was something always lacking. 
He must love in his own way and not his sister’s, before the fears 
of his partner would be realized. 

Just now he felt no need of any thing to complete his hap- 
piness : every sweetheart he had ever thought of for a moment 
was banished from his mind, he had left them far in the distance 
behind him, while he is pulling away up the stream, dreaming of 
deer, wild turkey, ducks, and in fact most any thing but sweet- 
hearts. 

Seeing an inviting spot, he drew near the bank where the 
boughs of a large elm reach over and shadow the water; he 
leisurely unwraps his line, joints his light bamboo rod, ties his 
boat to a projecting root, and settles himself to patiently wait a 
pull at his line. 

Who of us would not enjoy his situation for an hour or two? 
the charm of such sport is not in the fish we catch, for sometiines 
^ they refuse entirely to bite, but we see the glad green earth with 
her choicest beauties unfolded around us as far as the eye can reach ; 


6 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

no glare of stone pavements, no rush of rolling wheels, or a throb- 
bing tide of humanity surging by, but a quiet, restful feeling 
surrounds us, which we cannot describe and never experience in 
our most quiet moments in the city^s glare, there man and man’s 
creations, here nature’s God and nature’s beauty is over all. 

‘ ‘ Tlie stock dove is here in the heechen tree 
And the lulling tones of the honey hee; 

And the voice of cool waters midst feathery fem 
Shedding sweet sounds from some hidden urn. ’ ' * 

Ah! but what is that? a sound breaks his reverie, he starts 
up, a voice, bird-like, wild and sweet, comes floating to him over 
the water, and as he listens it draws nearer and nearer. ' 

From behind a small clump of trees at a bend in the river 
above him, floats a canoe, bearing as its freight a young girl stand- 
ing upright in the boat. One shapely bare foot on the seat, an oar 
grasped in a small brown hand to steady her, head thrown back 
and lips apart in song, her face tanned to a brownish hue, but the 
rich red on her cheeks and lips bring out the beauty of the soft 
dark eyes, and make the oval-bronzed face, lovely beyond de- 
scription; her hair flows loosely in the wind and is neither black, 
nor yet brown, but that tinge which the air takes at eve in Sep- 
tember, when night lingers through a vineyard, from beams of a 
slow setting sun,” it is inclined to fall in long loose curls to her 
waist, her dress is clean, but of coarsest material and ragged, her 
short skirt hangs in tatters around the bottom, showing “graceful 
ankles bare and brown,” the loose sleeve falling back leaves bare 
an arm that would shame that of a goddess, it is so perfect in 
shape ; her body sways gently to the motion of the boat and the 
rhythm of the song; she looks as though she belonged to the 
scene so free and so beautiful, as rugged and brown as the rocks 
that make for her an appropriate back-ground. 

Only a moment she stood thus, for when her eyes fell on 
Roland, with a startled look she quickly pushed the boat ashore, 
sprang lightly from it, and as a hunted deer with one bound, was 


THE WILD FLOWER. 


7 

lost from sight in the woods. A more beautiful being Eoland 
had never seen, could he have painted her as she stood, and only 
done the picture half justice, it would still have been beautiful : 
he wondered over and over again who she was, where she lived, 
what she could be doing here, and if she would return. But sev- 
eral days were destined to go by before this wood-nymph crossed 
his path again, and when she did, it happened in this way. 

One bright morning Roland rowed to the opposite side of the 
lake, moved his boat on the bar and went into the wood for a days^ 
hunt. On returing that afternoon he found he had not fastened 
the boat securely for it was gone, what should he do? it was too 
far to swim across, and to stay on that side meant to sleep on the 
bare ground, and he did not like that, besides to own the truth, 
he had been watching for a glimpse of that pretty girl again, and 
he knew she was on the other side. He could see the corner of a 
small field just across, perhaps some one might be in hearing of a 
call, so he halloos ! at the top of his voice, once, twice, three cimes 
and his mouth is open again, when he barely discerns through the 
dusky twilight, a movement among the flags on the opposite bank, 
and a boat shoots out on the water, a small graceful figure seated 
in it and rowing swiftly in his direction, it takes but a few strokes 
and she is across. 

You are very kind^’ said Eoland as the boat ground on the 
sand at his feet, and a pair of large shy eyes looked into his face 
with an expression which meant will row you over.^^ And 
seating himself he again took in the soft outlines and delicate 
curves of the graceful figure before him : he was unconscious of 
his rude stare, until the deeper red crept quickly to the surface 
and spread over the girhs face in a flush of embarrassment. 

You seem accustomed to rowing he said to cover her con- 
fusion. 

you live near the lake?’^ 

Our home is just in the woods there, you can see the garden 


8 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

fence, daddy heard you call, and thought it was some one in dis- 
tress, so he sent me with the boat.^^ 

She looked at Eoland as though she didn’t think him in very 
deep distress, as much as to say if she had known, she wouldn’t 
have come : but he explained his position and made it as distress- 
ing as he possibly could, and begged that she allow him to put 
them both across. He takes the oars but the boat ceases to skim 
over the water as rapidly as before, partly owing to his unprac- 
ticed hand, and partly because he is in no hurry to get to the 
opposite shore, for he is enjoying his interesting companion. 

^^Have you always lived here?” asked Eoland. 

‘^Yes always, I suppose, at least I came when I wa,s quite 
small and do not remem W any other place. Granny and daddy 
Eyan lived across the ocean in a great city, but it is nothing like 
here, nothing so beautiful as this, there it w^as all houses and 
people and paved streets.” 

Don’t you think all that would be nice?” 

^‘Oh! no, not so nice as here for the wild flowers don’t 
bloom there, and there is no lovely lake like this, with ferns and 
violets, shells and pebbles on its banks, and the wild birds do 
not sing so sweetly ndr the sun shine so bright.” 

‘^But” he said ‘^the winter will come around the same here 
as in the city and then you cannot enjoy all those things out 
doors.” 

Yes the winter does come” she replied with a low rippling 
laugh as though the thoughts of it brought pleasant recollections. 
^^But then we cuddle close around the fire in our little cottage 
and keep all snug and warm, and daddy reads and granny and I 
listen, and piece quilts and knit, and oh ! it’s so nice.” 

Eoland looked wonderingly at a girl who could be so happy 
and contented with so little, she was certainly a wonder to him, 
for all girls he had known, to almost require sun, moon, and stars 
to make them happy. 


THE WILD FLOWER. 


9 


Where did’ you learn to sing?’^ 

Oh ! I would love so much to know how to sing, but there 
is no one to learn me, I try sometimes when I^m all alone.’^ . 
She said drooping her head with a pretty smile and blush. 

^^But you were singing when I saw you first 

was just going like the bird that has its nest in the tree 
by our door ; it sings there every morning, I can go like all the 
birds, they and the squirrels are all the friends I have, but that 
is a great many you know, because the woods are full of them.’^ 
suppose you are very happy here?’^ 

‘^Yes, only sometimes^’ and tears gathered in the dark eyes. 
Roland wondered at this, but they were doubtless very poor and 
perhaps they were often without the necessities of life and 
suffered from hunger or cold he felt very sorry for them and 
asked. 

^^Poor child, you are in want of something, what is it? tell 
me that I may aid you.^^ 

Oh no,^^ and she brightened as though she felt no need of 
his proffered help, she understood his meaning and hastened to 
reply. 

^^We have the nice cow and the milk she gives, and the 
meal from the mill all freshly ground, and I make such nice 
mush, and then the potatoes and every thing that grows in our 
garden, and plenty of good enough clothes to wear.^^ 

And she glanced down at her cotton dress, with as much con- 
tent as a fashionable belle would inspect a new ball gown. 

Tell me then why the tears were in your eyes a moment 

ago.” 

The shadow came over her face again. He was half sorry he 
asked, but he felt he must know something of this strange beau- 
tiful creature’s life. 

She bent her head, the amber tinged curls fell over the hands 


10 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

which, clasped her knees and half concealed the tears that fell 
from her eyes, while she answered so softly, Roland bent nearer 
that he might catch her words. 

^‘Sometimes the old folks sit apart and talk of death, for 
they are old and feeble now and say that they must leave me 
soon, and go to a happier home where I will come too after 
Vhile, but I love them so and oh ! I cannot bear to hear them talk 
that way/^ 

Roland tried to comfort her as best he could, telling her 
they might live to be with her a long time yet. 

They reach the landing, Roland thanks her, asks her name, 
and she tells him it is Maggie Ryan. And in the hush of the 
deepening twilight he watches her go along the path into the 
shadowy wood, until she is lost from sight. There was something 
charming in her simplicity and a beautiful thought in her un- 
selfish love for those old people ; when in her presence he had 
felt his own selfishness more than ever before. 

Sweet child of nature, wealthier by far in thy contentment, 
than thousands of others, who with the smallest jewel from their 
casket, (jould buy twice over, all thy possessions. 


CHAPTER II. 

CONTENTED WITH ITS LOT. 

See^st thou my home ? His where yon woods are waving. 

In their dark richness, to the summer air; 

Where yon blue stream, a thousand flower banks laving, 

Leads down the hills a vein of light — His there* 

Hemansr 

A soft Jane morning, little flying clouds chase one another 
over the biae sky. The sun bursts forth from behind them 
making the dew drops glisten like jewels on flowers and grass. 
A cow lies lazily chewing her cud under a giant elm near a past- 


CONTENTED WITH ITS LOT. 


11 


ure gate contentedly waiting the milking time; but not long 
does she wait, for over the little meadow, fresh and bright as the 
flowers, comes Maggie. 

A squirrel chatters to her from over head, and a mocking bird 
from the highest bough, warbles his recognition of her presence 
there. She stops, tosses her curls back and looks up at the bird, 
and when he has finished, a song similar to his own breaks from 
her lips, as she trips lightly to the gate, unties the rope that holds 
it fast, when a footfall causes her to look around. 

Good morning, Maggie!’^ said Koland ‘^let me return some 
of your kindness of yesterday by opening this heavy gate. 

And while he opened the ponderous gate to let the cow out, 
he spoke of the fine day and regretted the loss of his boat as the 
game was more plentiful on the other side; and she said he could 
have their boat, granny was sick and daddy could not go fishing 
that day. Then Maggie went home to drive the cow, and Roland 
for his hunting and fishing equipments, he was soon ready and at 
the boat landing, when Maggie^s voice made him look around. 

^^Mr. Lee I have brought some breakfast for bunnie’s 
babies, will you please feed them for me, they are just in the 
hollow of the big pecan tree where the path first enters the wood, I 
am always there every day by this time and they will be waiting 
and hungry.^^ 

Roland could hardly suppress a laugh wdien she took from 
her apron, which she had been holding up all the while, a handful 
of corn and a queer little gourd like a cup with a handle, and 
reached both towards him. 

What is this for?^^ he asked turning the gourd over in his 

hands. 

Oh ! they must have a drink you know, and they are 
such dear little things, I know you will think so when you see 
them.^^ 




12 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

It was a new idea to send Koland to feed the squirrels, 
when he was hunting them to kill them. 

Ihn afraid I can’t find them, the place is new to me, would 
it not be best for you to come and attend to them yourself.” 

If I may, but will you wait for me?” and she goes quickly 
to the house, but soon returns with and old straw hat on, look- 
ing the veritable Maud Muller, for beneath the torn hat glowed 
the wealth of simple beauty and rustic health, a stray lock of hair 
had found its way out of a hole in the crown, and the old scalloped 
brim, matched well her ragged gown, her cheeks glowed and her 
eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

Eoland was bewildered at such dazzling beauty and forget- 
ting all else, stood lopking wonderingly at her. 

‘M’m ready now” she said, grasping the brim of her hat on 
each side in order to settle it more firmly on her head. 

When seated in the boat, Eoland began talking of the 
squirrels again. Can’t the squirrels take care of themselves?” 

^^No! you see some wicked hunter killed bunnie before the 
little ones were big enough to do for themselves and I found 
them — and have fed them every day — they are almost grown 
now but they wait for me. I will show you the red robin’s 
nest, it is not far off — and one egg will be hatched to-day, and 
such little balls of down when they first come out.” 

Yes, I shall be delighted to see them, but how do you 
know a bird will come out of the shell to-day ?”» 

Because it is just two weeks to-day since she laid the first 
egg. I was afraid I couldn’t come — but you ” — and not know- 
ing how to express herself she drooped her pretty head and 
blushed. 

After landing Maggie took the lead swinging along in an 
easy graceful way; she is a very unusual character, but still 
constantly reminds Eoland of some one. She talks about the 
birds and their young families, the flowers and the fishes and was 


CONTENTED WITH ITS LOT. 


13 


well up in the lore of her world, and had such stores of knowl- 
edge concerning it, that Roland felt his wisdom in that line very 
deficient, and finds himself an interested and humble listener to 
things that only a child of nature, and one who had lived in 
constant contact with nature can know or impart. 

Roland in his nicely fitting hunting suit, dignified carriage 
and polite bearing, which city life and culture has given him is 
also a wonder to this simple child, and when he speaks of his 
w^orld, its ways, and people she in her turn is silent. 

So these two beings so very unlike, are each an interesting 
companion for the other: and as Roland tells of his home, 
friends, city and so many things unknown to Maggie, w^hen they 
stop to listen to the mocking bird and watch it flutter in the air 
to reach its highest notes, Maggie tells of its home and habits, 
the worms it regards as daintiest fare, and many of its habits, 
unknown to Roland and he wonders how she found them all out. 

They reach the hollow tree, and out comes bunnie’s babies, 
but they are not at all like baby squirrels, large, fat and young 
wfith big bushy tails and they chattered noisily over the corn 
w^hich Maggie held out to them, running over her shoulders and 
down her arms to drink the w^ater from the gourd, and w^hen 
Roland steps in sight they look shy and run into their nest again, 
peeping out very cautiously ; their reception of him, causes Mag- 
gie^s silvery laugh to echo through the woods. 

Thus, pleasantly they pass the morning, and return, but be- 
fore separating Roland has Maggie’s promise to show him some 
interesting places on the morrow. She is familiar with each 
place of interest for many miles around and is able to direct him 
to places, that in his limited stay would have been overlooked. 
The loveliest spot of all, containing — as Maggie declared — more 
treasures than any other, was a little gorge or cavern ; running 
back far into the mountain. Craggy rocks reached up its sides, 
out of whose crevices grew great cactus, small stunted cedars and 


14 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER 

wild ivy ; but down in its bed rippled a little laughing brook, 
over mossy rocks and making fertile and fresh, beds of violets 
and ferns. Croaking frogs jumped about on the damp green moss, 
and looked like they thought Maggie and Roland trespassers on 
their private grounds. A crow cawed at them from the limb of a 
dead cedar above them. 

Tired and warm they stoop down and drink from the stream, 
then seat themselves on the stones to rest ; it is with a feeling of 
solemn awe and reverence they look around them, each feeling a 
loneliness apart as it were from all the world ; she with her devo- 
tion for the old people whose companionship and love was all she 
had ever known, still their youth had so long since passed away, 
ho feeling in common with her young heart remained; so exiled 
from a congenial spirit she had heretofore enjoyed these scenes alone. 

Roland with a man^s true heart, loved simplicity and 
sincerity, but he had never found it in any of those into whose 
society his sister had led him, it seemed nearer the truth here now 
with this gentle, true hearted child beside him, the blue of heaven 
above, the gurgling stream at his feet, and floating over all the 
perfume of violets, a happy and contented feeling stole around 
him that he had not known before : as the sun went down and 
twilight stole softly over all, they arose to go, he looked into the 
brown eyes beside him, and saw there the sweet light of a similar 
pleasure akin to his own, and involuntarily clasped her in his 
arms and passionately pressed a burning kiss on her cheek. Her 
heart throbbed, a warm flush dyes her face, she knows not why, 
but who of us can give reason for or understand love when it 
first touches the heart, as, the lily bud feels the warmth of the 
sun and gently unfolds each perfumed petal, drinking in the shin- 
ing rays, so the human heart to the love that first warms it. 

Next morning Roland lingers before starting on his day’s 
hunt, for Maggie does not come as usual to the pasture gate nor 
the boat landing and he misses the brown eyes and sweet voice, so 
with lagging steps he starts out. 


CONTENTED WITH ITS LOT. 


15 


Night draws in after a tiresome day and finds our hero foot- 
sore and weary with several miles yet between him and camp, 
with ominous clouds gathering thick and fast overhead, and 
soon a storm of rain and wind burst forth upon him in all its 
fury, branches crash and fall about him obstructing his pathway; 
the night grows into such thick darkness that he soon loses all 
idea of the direction in which to go, stopping to shield himself 
for a few minutes near the trunk of a large tree when a heavy 
limb would crash and break, falling at his feet, he would realize 
his unsafe position, and by a flash of lightening find his way a 
few steps onward, this he kept up it seemed to him for an hour 
or two, when the storm abated, and a glimmer of light in the 
distance, told him a house was not far off, and he at once went in 
the direction soon reaching it, looking through the half open door 
he saw a strange scene, it is the home of the fisherman for there 
in the corner of the room a bed on which lies the withered form 
of an old woman, whose sunken eyes and pale face show she is 
ill ; kneeling on the bare floor beside the bed is the bent form of 
an old gray haired man and beside a chair with face upturned in 
the soft glow of the firelight is Marguerite, 

‘ ‘ Hush His a holy hour — the quiet room 

Seems like a temple^ while yon soft lamp sheds 
A faint and starry radiance^ through the gloom 
And the sweet stillness, down on fair young heads, 

With all their clustering locks, untouched by care, 

And bowed as flowers are bowed with night, in prayer. 

Her soft brown eyes and perfect mouth wearing a solemn 
expression, different from what Roland had even seen on her face, 
making her look more woman than cliild. Ah ! thought Roland 
how beautiful she is and how ^good. 

The last words of the prayer spoken in the trembling voice 
of the old man was audible ; ^Oh ! spare her to us yet awhile, 
we know at best it will not be long, but not now oh : Lord not 
now ; And Heaven be merciful and take not from us our greatest 
blessing our pride and joy our Maggie; we are afraid that she may 


16 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

grow tired of this dull life, and be tempted away from us, Heaven 
forbid ! guide the stranger that wanders on our shores and bless 
him we ask for Jesus’ sake. Amen. 

Marguerite rose quickly and went to the bed where the old 
man still knelt, and dropping down beside him, put her arm 
gently around his neck, and kissed his withered cheek, saying, 
Daddy, you needn’t pray that way any more, for nothing will 
tempt me to leave you, never think of that daddy, for I will stay 
with you always ; who is there for me to love and care for but 
you and granny ?” 

Little she knew how soon the temptation would come. 

Roland was a stranger to scenes like this, but his memory 
went far back in his childhood, when he used to kneel each night 
by his mother’s side, and repeat the childish prayer she taught 
him : he would not disturb them so he turned away with tears in 
his eyes — and sought his camp. 

Since his mother’s death he had been striving for learning, 
fame and wealth, crowding out of his mind all thoughts of 
Heaven and God, while here were these humble people, believing 
and relying on Him from day to day, trusting in His promises and 
following meekly in His footsteps and finding true happiness and 
contentment, while he knew neither. Many thoughts such as 
these came to him while he lay comparing his life and theirs, 
these people were wretchedly poor yet they didn’t seem to know 
it, they were so contented : how easy it would be for that lovely 
Marguerite with her rare voice, to make a fortune for them all : 
he might give her a start, put it into her head to go, and furnish 
her the money, why not do it? but a repulsive feeling crept into 
his breast : it would be a sin to disturb them, they were happy 
here, and the life beyond these hills and vales they knew nothing 
of ; but Roland did, it was cruel and cold and what did gold do 
for you when won, but crowd the warm love and pure affections 
from the heart : and was not the beautiful devotions of this strang- 


CONTENTED WITH ITS LOT. 


17 


ly united family, whose heart strings were wound about one 
another, more to be valued than gold? would he be the one to tear 
them asunder? No I Would to Heaven such a pure life unspot- 
ted from the world, had been his own ; with good resolves for 
the morrow, and life in the future, he falls asleep. 

Next morning Marguerite comes with a sad face to tell 
Roland granny is no better and will eat nothing she prepares for 
her, so he goes for some birds and brings them to the house and 
each day afterwards he sees that their wants are supplied and is a 
frequent visitor at the cottage. Somehow he had lost interest in 
hunting and fishing since Marguerite could no longer go along ; 
he wondered at himself and resolved to go out and have a whole 
day of it once more. He soon became weary, it was warm and 
dusty, he had gotten a few birds for granny Ryan and somehow he 
kept thinking about going back, he didn^t see anything else but 
squirrels and he imagined each one looked like Marguerite^s pets 
so he would not kill them. 

At last he threw himself down under a spreading oak, and 
gave w^ay to pleasant day-dreams such as this, how pretty she is 
and how good, I wish I was a poor miller’s or fisherman’s son, I 
would win her heart and hand, build a little cottage here and 
how happy I might be with her as my little wife. I believe I 
love that sweet wild flower, that Marguerite. I would have gone 
home long ago but I dread the thought of never seeing her 
again — some indescribable charm holds me to this place — I can- 
not leave — her eyes — gazelles — a fairy isle — where thou and I 
might dwell — alone” and with these thoughts Roland dropped 
to sleep and passsed into the real land of dreams. He knew not 
how long he slept, but when he awoke, beside him her ragged 
old hat far back on her head, sat Marguerite gazing intently into 
his face. As Roland opened his sleepy eyes to hers, he wondered 
if he is still dreaming, or is it true he is the poor fisherman and 
she his own, and he reached out and took one of the little brown 
hands in his, yes he was awake and she really there beside him. 


18 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

She had been looking for wood with which to cook the evening 
meal, when she found Koland there asleep, she had childishly 
lain down her wood and seated herself to wait for him. So he 
got up and they start for home he putting the game bag over 
her shoulders, taking care to lift the curls so the strap will lie 
beneath them, for it was one of Roland’s chief joys to watch 
them blow about her rosy face; he was a little longer about it than 
necessary, he wished to ask her something but he felt it might be 
wrong but just to see if she liked him the least bit he said : 

Marguerite, would you care if I went away ?” 

For an answer her apron went to her eyes and she began to 
cry ; he knew then that she cared for him, and he knew also that 
he had it in his power to make the poor girl’s life happy or 
miserable and he must be careful. 

^^Oh ! don’t cry Margie, I’m not going now, I just w^ant to 
know if you cared.” And he took the apron from her hands and 
wiped away the tears that were all shed for him, and told him 
better than words could ever do that she loved him. 

The cloud passed when the shower of tears had fallen, and 
the sun came forth more radiant than before. 

He shouldered gun and wood, while Marguerite gathered 
flowers by the way, as they went homeward bound through the 
dusky twilight. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TEMPTATION. 

Siceet vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest^ 

Jn thy bosom of shade tcith 1 he friends I love best; 

Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease 
And our hearts like thy waters be mingled in peace. 

Moore. 

Several days have elapsed between this and the last chapter, 
and Roland realizes his holidays must end, he must go back to 


THE TEMPTATION. 


19 


business and cares, society and its hollow pleasures. No more 
wandering in the woods with Marguerite, no more gathering 
shells and finding bear tracks in the golden sand, no more wild 
flowers to be gathered, daisies, butter-cups and violets : no more 
would the brown eyes of Marguerite look up each day trustingly 
into his own. Would he miss them? Ah! he knew not how 
much : but he knows already that this parting will be the first 
trial of his life. 

It was late that evening when he returned, but he went 
he had done each day since the old lady^s illness, to the cabin 
with game for the evening meal. 

He had tied a hammock under the trees by the door, here he 
had swung Marguerite to and fro, while her sweet voice had rang 
out on the still night air in strange little songs. And to-night he 
found her there, and as he came a step nearer, he saw she was 
asleep and he thought she looked more beautiful than he had ever 
seen her. One bare perfect arm thrown above her head, her lips 
seemed smiling in dreams, the hammock swayed slightly iii the 
gentle breeze, and the soft moonlight played over her face through 
the openings in the foliage above. He leaned over her nearer and 
nearer, he bent his head until her breath fanned his cheek. He 
was to part with her on the morrow, would it be wrong to press 
his lips to hers this once? Oh ! the temptation should he resist it? 
Yes, he could not risk her displeasure on this last evening they 
were to enjoy together. Plis presence so near had awakened her, 
she stirred and opened her eyes. 

'^‘Margie, wake up and see what IVe brought said Roland 
as innocently as if he had never thought of stealing a kiss ; 
handing her the bag of game, she takes the birds out one by one 
smoothing their ruffled feathers, kissing their heads, saying all 
manner of loving things to them, until Roland declared he would 
like to be a dead bird. They enter the cabin, where he shares 
their frugal meal, and kneels with them this last time in their 
humble devotion. He lingered awhile and then said ‘^good 


20 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

night,’’ and while he held Marguerite’s hand a moment, said in 
low but earnest tones, '' Be at the landing in the morning. Mar- 
guerite, I have something to tell you,” and he was gone. 

Bounding along the path in the early morning comes Maggie, 
wondering all the while what it can be that Eoland is going to 
say to her, it might be an excursion in the Avoods or another long 
boat ride, but somehow his tones had a sound of sadness in them ; 
and now as she approaches him while he stands there w^aiting, 
she thinks he wears a sad look and her joyous feelings all vanish, 
she slackens her steps and he comes to meet her with outstretched 
hands. 

^^Good morning. Marguerite!” in a sad tone still holding her 
hands in his. 

Good morning, Mr. Lee.” 

Call me Eoland, Margie, for we have been good friends 
for a long time, have we not? and I’m going to say good bye to 
you Margie for we must part to-day.” 

Her eyes sought his face and a bewildered look came into 
them as though she scarcely understood what he said. 

I must leave you to-day, my little friend, and go back to 
my home in the city.” 

A cry of anguish broke from her lips, and she sank down 
weeping as though her heart would break. Eoland was not pre- 
pared for this, he could hardly bear the thought that he must be 
the cause of this sorrow : and Maggie knew not until then, that 
so much of the life of her life, half unknown to herself, had been 
silently settled on one from whom parting would be almost death, 

Eoland shuddered as he looked at the drooping figure of the 
girl at his feet : he should have gone before now, but he could 
not, the trial to him was great — but he knew best how to bear it, 
he was the strongest; he knew now that he loved this rude child 
of nature, but what would her life be but misery in the midst of 
his friends, she could barely read or write, they would scorn her. 


THE TEMPTATION. 


21 


Oh, Heaven! the only way left was to forget her if possible. 

Marguerite, why do you weep so she raised her pleading 
tear stained face to his. 

Oh ! Roland she sobbed Please do not go away — do not 
leave me — I cannot bear it — IVe been so happy since you came, 
do not go’^ — 

He raised her from the ground, put his arms gently around 
her, and pressing her to his aching heart and smoothed back Jier 
disordered curls. 

Don’t weep any more, sit here beside me and let us have a 
long friendly tsflk, like we have had so often.” 

But conflicting emotions filled his breast, he felt he could 
not leave her, yet how could he take her — yes, she was a child, 
and he a man, and his was the duty, to act reasonable and not 
blindly ; yet here beside him, with her beautiful tear stained face, 
this darling girl, oh 1 how he longed to throw reason to the 
winds, clasp her to his breast, and swear never from her to be 
separated as long as life lasts, but it would only bring sorrow 
and misery in the end, he must wait — he must give her up, but 
he would come again — so calming himself he said kindly. 

‘^Marguerite, my good little friend listen to what I have to 
say to you,” her sobs ceased but her head lay quite still and 
heavy against his breast, “ Let me take you to the city to school, 
where you can learn a great deal, in books about everything, and 
you can learn music, and your nice voice can be trained, and I 
will be so proud of my little girl and so will daddy and granny 
Ryan ; at mention of their names she raised her head and asked. 

“ Can they go, too ?” 

“No !” answered Roland “But you can come back to see 
them sometimes and after you get through going to school, you 
can come back here if you like or they can come to you. She 
seemed to be thinking. 

“No at last she answered, I see it all now, I can’t do that,” 


22 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

raising her head in a proud way, new to him, and brushing the 
tears from lier eyes. 

Mr. Lee, I must not listen to you any more, could I think 
for a moment of causing a sorrow, in the few short days of those 
old people’s lives; you know I’m all they have on earth, their on- 
ly joy and comfort. Who would cheer their drooping spirits ? 
Who would nurse them in their sickness? and be ears for their 
dull hearing, and eyes for their dim sight ? No one ! Ah ! one 
week of my absence w^ould be to them an eternity of gloom ; yes, 
I see it all, we must part, your w^orld, your people, your duty lies 
yonder,” pointing over the lake And mine here.” ^’Good bye, 
Koland forev^er,” holding out her hand. 

Oh ! Marguerite darling, do not say forever.” He would 
have clasped her in his arms but she restrained him. 

Would you have me act differently and so sadden the last 
days of those who have protected and cared for me all my life ? 
I cannot leave them as long as they live.” 

Marguerite forgive me, but I love you. Heaven only knows 
how w^ell, be kind to me in this last hour together, tell me that 
you love me, before we part, and that I may come again ?” 

A breath of wind blew the brown curls over his face and as 
he pressed them to his lips, she whispered softly, Yes, I know 
it, I love you Roland Lee :” a deep blush overspread her face and 
she ran quickly aw^ay : but when out of sight she began to think 
and slackened her steps to a walk — she hardly moves and at 
length stops altogether, her bosom is heaving, her hands clasped, 
and a sad face upturned to Heaven, it is her first temptation, and 
a great one. Roland on one hand offering her the only means by 
which she can gain his level, or ever hope to become his bride, 
on the other tw^o feeble old people trusting to her for comfort in 
their declining years ; she stood thus a moment only, tlien w-ent 
her w^ay quickly to the cabin, a triumphant if a sadder Marguerite. 


THE TEMPTATION. 


23 

Why did she weep so that night when daddy Ryan prayed 
for Roland Lee ? why did she sob herself to sleep, and wake with 
thoughts of him at early dawn ? Love is the answer to it all. 

Medicine has no power to save a life that has run its race, 
and as a candle that has burned down it must go out. 

Granny Ryan lingered a few days longer, when the sleep of 
death came peacefully to her. 

Marguerite spoke sweet words of consolation to the old 
man, while her young heart had a double portion to bear. 

We will leave the inmates of the cabin for awhile, alone 
with their grief. 


Mr. Morrell had looked and wished for Roland’s return as a 
father would look for an absent and much loved son; and was 
glad indeed to welcome him home; the truth was, he was bored 
with his own company and an important case was on hand. 

Their cosy apartments looked brighter than usual to-night, 
the light from a soft lamp fell on the rich hangings, the polished 
floors strewn with skins, and the pictured walls, making it an at- 
tractive sanctuary. 

‘^Roland, my boy” began Mr. Morrell, ^‘What success? 
You don’t look as well as you might, and you haven’t told me 
anything yet about your trip.” 

I’ve been to a beautiful country, Mr. Morrell, a regular 
happy hunting ground, plenty of fish and game. 

Something about Mr. Morrell’s face reminded him of Mar- 
guerite, the thought came to him so often that evening to speak 
of her, but he did not. 

Together they spent a pleasant evening, talking of business, 
society, and on this latter topic, strange to say they agreed for the 
first time. 


24 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

Roland had argued heretofore, that there was real pleasure 
in it, now agreeing with Mr. Morrell that it was a bore, and de- 
claring that he cared nothing more about it, and intended to let it 
all go and attend with redoubled energy to his profession. 

That reminds me, your sister has prepared a large dinner- 
party in your honor, which is to take place at an early date/^ 

That’s how my resolve goes to the wind, sister you know, 
and she is one person I can’t refuse.” 

She has in view a special pleasure for you, a Miss Temple- 
ton, who is all the rage and quite pretty and charming.” 

And Roland knew it was a wife his sister always had in view 
for him, and how he would shun this dinner-party if possible. 

Yes a new belle, who has throngs of suitors at her feet, 
among them a foreign prince, but she rejects them all, her wealth 
is boundless, and her beauty untold. Now my boy do you think 
you can withstand a temptation like that?” 

Roland laughed and said he thought it useless to try, and 
would just drop at her feet at once and prevent a failure on his 
part. 

The evening wore away and they retired for the night ; as 
sleep stole gently over Roland’s senses, a pair of tearful dark eyes 
seemed to be looking into his ; a w^arm little arm seemed to steal 
around his neck. He started up, but dropped back to sleep at 
last, to awake no more until morning, and when morning came it 
brought with it only thoughts of Marguerite, for was it not in 
the early mornings she came over the meadow to the pasture 
gate? But to-day they were separated, other faces would be 
around him, other voices reach his ears, but none so sweet, none 
so dear as Marguerite’s. 

After breakfast Mrs Zuber came and declared Roland must 
drive with her for an hour at least, she had something important 
to say to him, he had always laughed at his sister’s ^‘important” 
things; but he loved his beautiful fashionable sister who had 


THE TEMPTATION. 


25 

done so much for him, and was always ready to obey her wishes, 
so he got Jn and settled himself beside lier: how handsome she 
was, in a black dress of softest silk and lace, a little Parisian 
bonnet, a mass of blue forget-me-nots, on her head, nestling down 
in the golden waves of hair ; a fan of pale blue ostritch feathers, 
waved to and fro in her small hand, which was gloved to perfec- 
tion in tan suede : she made a pretty picture sinking back in the 
luxurious 'cushions of her carriage. 

Ah ! how scornful those blue eyes would fall on my Mar- 
guerite’^ thought Roland. 

^^Now brother I want you to be ever so nice to Miss 
Templeton, for I’m so anxious you should like her, won’t you 
try just for my sake? It would be a splendid match for you 
she is just grand, and I know you will like her, won’t you that’s 
a darling, I have told her about you.” 

All right, dearest sister I shall prepare to fall in love with 
her at once so don’t worry any more about it.” 

^^Now Roland” with a pretty pout, am in earnest, so do 
be serious, are you going to be an old bachelor with all your 
good looks and good sense, I hope you won’t disappoint me and 
society that way.” 

^^You talk as though I was growing really ancient; but in 
earnest I will be glad to meet your friend and hope I may be 
one of her farvored ones,” 

The drive and chat over, Roland went to his work and Mrs. 
Zuber home in a flutter of excitement over the dinner party. 

A few hours later, the elegant rooms in Mrs. Zuber’s palatial 
residence were fast filling with guests, carriages rolled up the 
drive and were emptied of daintily clad figures who were ushered 
into a beautiful room all blue and gold, the hangings of softest 
India silk in palest blue with Turkish dado of gold, luxurious 
couches strewn with French embroidered pillows, velvet carpet 
into which sank the daintily shod feet, and from this apartment 


26 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

down the broad oaken panelled hall into the double parlons where 
music floated and gay voices chattered and merry feet kept time 
to sweet music. 

Roland had come early, wishing to please his sister and do 
all honor to her party. Presently a silence and a murmur of ad- 
miration, passed ov^er the party. Miss Templeton had conie, at the 
portiere between hall and parlors she stood, one small hand 
pushing aside the drapery, a symphony in old pink, the Lyons 
velvet wdiich composes her dress being slightly trimmed with 
rich point de Venice lace at the low corsage, and falling away 
from the rounded arms, the lace enhancing the velvet and the 
velvet bringing out the fine texture and beautiful pattern of the 
lace, jeweled pins glistened in her blonde hair and diamonds en- 
circled her white throat. She was beautiful enough for a princess 
thought Roland, if she had refused to be one. Of course she had 
many admirers, but at once seemed pleased with Roland’s atten- 
tions and did not hesitate to show her preference. She was 
bright and pleasant and Roland laid all prejudice aside, and de- 
clared her a charming woman. 

So it proved that this evening was the first of many, they 
were to spend together. 

Things could not have gone better, Mrs. Zuber thought. 

Roland and Miss Templeton were always together now, balls 
receptions, concerts, drives, and everybody was holding their 
breath in expectancy of the announcement of their engagement. 
But appearances are too often deceiving. 

Roland Lee and Miss Templeton who understood one an- 
other perfectly, were humoring people and enjoying a very sweet 
friendship, that had grown stronger, since the day this frank 
hearted lady told Roland of her betrothal to a noble but poor 
man, whom she loved dearly, but to please his notion of honor, 
had promised to wait, while he made a fortune away in Califor- 
nia. And Roland had confided in her the story of his love for 


THE TEMPTATION. 


27 

the sweet wood-nymph, Marguerite, of how he had tried to for- 
get her, feeling it would be so foreign to his sister’s taste, and a 
strange marriage for him, but how it had been all in vain, and 
his heart yearned for her still and when winter passed and spring 
came, he would go again and beg of her to share his life. 

Miss Templeton was delighted with the romance of the 
story, and declared she loved the girl who could make such a 
sacrifice of her life for the two old people, she must see such a 
heroine and a visit was to be exchanged when the two weddings 
should have been consumated. 

And he was glad he had told his secret. Together they 
talked of their happiness and laughed at how people could be so 
blinded. 

But people were beginning to get impatient, the season was 
almost gone, and Miss Templeton talking of going North again. 

What could it mean ? 

Early one morning, a friend of Mrs. Zuber’s came in espe- 
cially to tell her that Miss Templeton was really going away. 

will see Eoland at once, said Mrs. Zuber, and find out 
what it all means, he has never confided a word to me; but all 
seemed to be going on so smoothly, and you know in affairs like 
that, one does not like to interfere.” 

So off she bustled, all in a flutter, thinking how Miss Tem- 
pleton could be so cruel hearted to treat her darling brother so. 
She expected to find him crushed and down hearted ; why had 
she not gone to comfort him sooner ; but then he was so hard to 
please, it would be just like him to change his mind at the last 
minute and disappoint her. 

Between conflicting emotions she reached the house, was 
shown into his apartments, and found him alone, calmly reading 
his paper, but when he saw who has entered, he threw it down 
and rose with a welcoming smile. 


28 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

^‘Good morning, sister dearest!’^ placing an easy chair for 
her, It’s real nice of you to stop in and see a fellow, what’s the 
news?” Searching his face closely, she saw in it no trace of 
sadness, so decided at once it is all Roland’s fault, and the heart- 
broken party is on the other side. 

I hear that Miss Templeton is going away, is it true ?” 

I believe she did tell me something of the kind,” he replied. 

Why, has the engagement been broken? she asked in 
astonishment. 

What engagement do you refer to ?” 

Now Roland what engagement should I refer to but yours 
with Miss Templeton?” 

Pshaw, if that is it, it is all a mistaken notion, I will 
assure you there has never been an engagement between Miss 
Templeton and myself — never.” 

How perfectly horrid you both are to make everyone think 
so, I shall never again set my heart on anything, I’m sure you 
love each other, and I don’t see why you want to act in such a 
heartless fashion.” 

There you are again deceived, I have the greatest respect and 
warmest friendship for Miss Templeton — but love — not one spark 
ever burned in my heart for her.” 

Blit she certainly loves you.” 

^^Now you are again blind my darling sister, for Miss 
Templeton is engaged and will soon be married to the man she 
loves, what else can I explain that puzzles your precious brain ? ” 
he said pinching her pink ear, as she pouted so becomingly. 

Well I never heard of anything so absurd ; Roland, if you 
are determined to live single, it isn’t worth while trying to find a 
suitable wife for you.” 

You are the kindest of sisters, and I know I seem ungrate- 
ful, but don’t worry,” kissing the clouded brow For when I do 


THE TEMPTATION. 


29 

select a woman for my wife it must be oiie I can love, regardless 
of wealth and station, for it is the only true marriage and with 
that alone can I be satisfied.^^ 

When you find your modern Priscilla, I hojie you will tell 
me,’^ she said laughingly and rose to go. 

Poland longed to tell her she was already found — but he 
would not now until her discomfiture over this affair had quieted 
down. 

Ah ! how he lived over each day and hour of that happy 
time and in his dreams looked into soft brown eyes and felt gold- 
en brown ringlets blown about his face, and awakened to reality 
by a fresh wild strain of song, a voice he could never forget, 
though he should be seperated from it for years to come. 

One night as he and Mr. Morrell sat talking together, he 
felt he must tell him of Marguerite, he would not keep the secret 
of his love from him longer, 

Mr. Morrell, I have never told you of a bit of romance in 
connection with my life, and my hunt last smmerf ^ 

^^i\o. I’m sure you never have, so let me hear it at once.” 

Roland took from his purse a small scrap of coarse blue 
cloth through wdiich ran a few threads of wdiite, making a check, 
it was a scrap torn by a briar from the bottom of Marguerite’s 
dress during one of their rambles. 

^^This” he said ^Ms an extract from a beautiful poem, the 
remainder of wdiich will be found at the lake, where I spent my 
holidays last summer. In short, it is a piece of my sweetheart’s 
best dress.” 

Mr, Morrell put on his glasses and examined the fabric, 
while Roland finished the story. 

^AVell!” exclaimed Mr. Morrell ^^Such a genuine rough 
diamond as she is, I could fall in love with her myself, and I 
would rather see you marry a true woman in poverty and rags 


30 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

my boy, than one with q^iiicatlon and wealth, and a heart cold 
and feelingless as a stone. And are you serious about it ? What 
are your intentions ? 

To make her my wife, if she will consent.^^ 
somehow feel it will be a happy marriage, and may 
Heaven’s blessings be with you.” 

Roland worked steadily on, looking forward to the coming 
spring, happy in the thought that it would not be long until he 
would clasp again to his heart, his Marguerite and they would be 
happy together again. True she had made him no promise, but 
he knew she loved him, no doubt of that ever crossed his mind. 
But he knew how devoted she was to the old people and had said 
she would never leave them ; so he was prepared to provide for 
them too, for he was what tlie world called rich. 


CHAPTER ly. 

HAS THE FLOWER DIED? 

Oh ! my beloved^ whcree^er I turn 
Some trace of thee enchants mine eyes; 

In every star thy glances hurn^ 

Ihy blush on every flowret lies. 

Moore. 

The busy months soon slip away. Spring is here. 

With what pride and delight had Roland built and furnished 
a house for his wild flower. 

The rooms though so different, were alike in that they were 
all in harmony with the dark beauty, whom he had fondly 
pictured flitting through them like a beam of sunshine. 

We will look into them for a moment only. First a 
generous hall, a half screened staircase rising on one side, and the 
light from mullioned windows falls on the paneled wainscot and 
tinted walls; the broad fireplace of richly carved stone and 


HAS THE FLOWER DIED? 


31 


wood, the fire of crackling logs, sends out its welcome as we 
enter. The floor is covered here and there by soft rugs of East- 
ern texture. Comfort and a sense of welcome are unmistakably 
expressed. Through the door to the right we enter the library, 
an informal and charming apartment, where books, music and 
pictures contribute equally to one’s pleasure, a piano and other 
musical instruments find a place here. A picturesque arrange- 
ment of shelves at the side of a small window glazed with leaden 
glass, where choice bits of pottery, china and bric-a-brac are 
gathered. The book cases are well filled. The hangings which 
are of rose India silk and lace, harmonize with the tint of walls 
and carpet. Ah ! ” thought Roland here we will spend the hap- 
piest hours, I will read to her while she sits in that easy-chair, how 
pretty she will look with her beautiful head against that rose 
plush, her feet resting there on that ottoman.” We will visit the 
parlor next, and an ideal one we find it. The walls paneled 
with frames of ebony, filled with velvet of a rich violet color, 
magnificent mirrors set in here and there in place of the velvet, 
around the mirrors the ebony is enriched with the most delicate 
carving. The mantel of marble, and all around the room silver 
candlesticks of exquisite design, spring from the ebony frames of 
the panels ; the furniture is of ebony with orange damask and 
violet velvet. Next is Marguerite’s own room. With what 
loving care was this planned and furnished, as an evidence, glance 
at the hand painted corners of the ceiling, wild flowers, buttercups 
and marguerites, such as she loved to gather, daintily resting 
against a gray background ; what a cosy, rich look this room has, 
all furnished in crimson and gold, that couch, that chair, the 
dainty curtains around the snowy bed, and that soft rug beside it, 
all spoke of love for Marguerite. Long enough have we linger- 
ed, but from garret to cellar a cosier nest would be hard to find. 

Now away over river and mountain, into the wild-wood, 
where stands the little cottage, where a year ago Roland parted 
with what the world held dearest for him. 


32 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

A few hours by rail a half clay’s drive, and he is there, but 
as he approaches, the hut looks desolate, such a quiet deserted 
look rests on every thing, a sudden fear comes to him, and he 
asks himself, could they be gone, Ah ! how he had pictured Mar- 
guerite recognizing him in the distance and flying with eager feet 
and beating heart to meet him, how he would clasp her to his 
heart and claim her his own. Alas! how vain his hopes, he 
does not yet realize. Yes, the houfee is desolate, they had moved 
perhaps to some neighboring house, he would find out by going 
to the next hut a half mile up the lake, they would probably be 
there or he would see some one to guide him at once to them; he 
is growing uneasy and impatient, he reached the place and found 
it occupied by some strange ignorant people, he inquired at once 
about the missing family. 

‘^The old witcli and her husband, why they are both dead 
and buried six months ago” they answered. 

^^The girl Maggie tell me for God’s sake where is she.” 

^^God only knows where that child is we don’t, a few day’s 
after the old man was buried she was nowhere to be found. 

Has she not friends near to whom she would be likely to 

^^Not she, after her granny bewdtching cows and churns like 
she did no one would take that chap into their house, they might 
expect to wake up dead or bewitched if they did, no indeed, she 
always was a queer critter, floating down the river singing songs 
all the while.” 

He found he could learn nothing of her there, and sought 
other sources for information, but found none; it was in vain he 
questioned in vain he offered money to those who would give 
him the slightest trace of her. What a rush of memories came 
over him as he saw again the familiar places. 

“ a thousand bright veined flowers. 

From their banks of moss and fern, 

Breathe of the sunny hours — 

But when wilt thou return 


HAS THE FLOWER DIED? 


33 

With what heaviness of heart did he visit each favored spot, 
where he had been with Marguerite at his side; the robin’s nest, 
and the hollow tree where bunny made his home a year ago, how 
with shy eyes a new family peeped at him, and thought of the 
time when last year’s young ones ate nuts from Marguerite’s 
fingers and perched on her shoulders and head, knowing her only 
as their friend, how each flower she loved spoke to him of her, 
and the words of White’s sweet old song came to him, ‘‘I wan- 
dered down by the little babbling brook, its every ripple speaks 
of thee: The roses too they droop their heads, in sympathy 
with me. Marguerite.” 

He lingered there for days in the hope that if alive she 
would return, but at last he could sustain hope no longer, and 
then he knew how fondly how truly he loved her and how hard 
it was to give her up. He reproached himself for leaving her 
there, her sweet face haunted him, he thought how it might have 
been ! but too late now, and in utter despair he returned. 

So haggard and worn he looked, that it seemed he had 
grown old in these few days of sorrow and disappointment. The 
home he had prepared with such bright hopes for the future, and 
left with a light heart, he now staggers into, and dropping in the 
nearest chair, buries his white face in his hands while his form 
was shaken with grief. Weeks of sickness and delirium follow- 
ed, everything was a blank to him for days, and his life was 
despaired of. From his wuld ravings his friends partially gather- 
ed the truth. Mr. Morrell was greatly grieved ; the W'ound in 
his own heart over the loss of loved ones had not yet healed, and 
he could sympathize more deeply with Koland, and could not be 
reconciled at thought of his death. But Boland did not die. 
He came slowly back to life again, and with the return of health, 
the return of hope, if she lived he might yet find her : But like 
Gabriel in search of Evangeline, row^ed down the river, wdiile 
she lay asleep dreaming of him on its banks ; he felt that in this 
world he might be very near her and still miss finding her at 


34 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

last, but ever a faint hope lingered, he found himself looking 
among the crowds from the trains, and every begger girl received 
a coin for the sake of peering into a bonnet in search of a pair of 
brown eyes he knew so well ; then despair would settle down on 
him as he thought how the cold waters of the lake might have 
closed over her long ago. 

The house he had prepared was closed, and things were still 
just as he had placed them, in readiness for her reception ; he had 
large and tempting offers for this beautiful home, but he refused 
to sell it. For when he parted with it, it would be when the 
last ray of hope had vanished, and then Ah ! then what would 
life be to him ? 

He was lost to the world now, his sad story was all that 
was known of him, it was spoken of as ^^so novel like’^ quite 
a romance’^ ‘^she must have been very beautiful.^^ 

Marguerite loved and worshiped God; and now on each 
Sabbath morning you might see Roland Lee with countenance 
thoughtful and sad, wending his way to the church where he 
knelt with the worshipers there, and came away with the sweet 
assurance that he would some day meet Marguerite where there 
' would be no more sad partings. 


CHAPTER Y. 

TRANSPLANTED. 

Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north-wind^ s hreath, 

And stars to set but all. 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, 0 Death. 

Hemans. 

The rain came in fitful gusts, against the little cabin, the 
wind whistled and moaned through each crevice, it was a fearful 
night outside ; crouching over the dying embers, her face buried 
in a ragged shawl which was drawn over her head, sat Marguer- 
ite sobbing bitterly. 


TRANSPLANTED. 


35 


It was three days since daddy Ryau was buried, but to this 
lonely child it seemed that many weeks. 

The shock of the old wife’s death was too much, for the 
feeble strength of the aged man, he too had suddenly lost his 
slight hold on life. 

These superstitious people had shunned Marguerite as an 
evil spirit, and she had crept from .the lonely grave to her own 
desolate hearthstone uncomforted and alone. 

It was to Roland her thoughts turned after the first outburst 
of grief, for he, alone, she thought loved her, and if he knew she 
was left alone, would take care of her ; and raising her face to 
Heaven she breathed a prayer, then going to bed she studied out 
her plans for to-morrow. She would take the small sum daddy 
Ryan had left her, go to the city where she might find Roland 
and tell him she had no one to take care of her and he would 
love and care for her she knew. So with this thought she waked 
early next morning; it was still eold but the sun was peeping up 
and everything bid fair ; with a lighter heart than she had known 
for days, she tied together a few things, and was soon going 
down the path to the boat-landing, looking about her as she went 
knowing this may be the last time she will ever look on these 
familiar places which she has known and loved so long. For 
sweet child of nature you know this world, but the one beyond 
this bright blue lake — you know nothing of the joys and sorrows 
which await you there, your young heart has never felt keen stabs 
of cruel words, nor known yet what hunger- and cold really 
mean ; you are blindly stepping into a future of varied scenes 
you know nothing of, and go into it with a true and trusting 
heart, for kindness and love is all you have ever known in your 
small world. 

She does not mind the walk, though many miles lie between 
her and the station. It is almost dark when she reaches it, and 
timidly asks for a ticket, saying she wants to go to the city, but 


36 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

is told tlie train is gone, and none will be in again until morning — 
what would slie do ? 

I will just sit on this seat and w^ait if you do not mind?^^ 

growled the man you had better go somewhere 
else^’ — she certainly looked an innocent little lady for all her 
rags, but lie knew people were sometimes not so innocent as they 
appeared. 

I haven’t anywhere to go,” she answered humbly. But 
seeing his stern look she picked up her bundle and went outside. 
A bad judge of human nature who could find guilt in such a 
firce as hers ; l)ut he coldly walked away leaving our heroine to 
spend the night on the doorstep. She said God would take care 
of her and trustingly laid her head on her bundle and slept until 
morning. Her healthy body and vigorous nature soon rebounded 
from sorrow and fatigue, and she was bright and hopeful again. 

On board the train, she looked out the window and enjoyed 
the new scenes, as she sped away she knew not where. A few 
hours ride a shrill Avhistle and the train stopped at the depot in 

the city of D , crowds of people pressed in and others out, 

and such was the confusion. Marguerite was so unaccustomed to, 
she scarcely knew which way to turn, and wondered if this was 
the place, should she get off here ? surely Boland lives further 
away, why slie seemed to have just started, so quickly she came; 
she was on the steps of the car hesitating what to do. Only one 
step to the platform, and she would have landed safely there with 
Roland, in the verv refuge of loving hands and a longing heart, 

y •/ o ^ o o o 

But alas! it was ordered differently. The train had brought her 
too swiftly, and his home to her seemed so far away ; she wavered 
a moment turned into the car and took her seat again. 

Why had the spark of Iiope in Roland’s heart grown so 
bright for a moment that day when the shrill whistle of that 
train caught his ear and he felt he could write no longer, 
throwing down his work he wMked in the direction of the 


TRANSPLANTED. 


37 


depot, peering into the conveyances, and at the people on foot, 
but all in vain, and he again retraced his steps and took up his 
work. 

Marguerite leaned her pretty head baek on the soft cushion, 
and would have enjoyed it but for sad thoughts of the dead and 
her lonely condition. Tears filled her eyes and stole down her 
cheeks; she sat there all uneonscious of how beautiful she looked 
and the admiring glances of the passengers, for she was lost in sad 
thought. Presently the conductor came through taking the 
tickets, Marguerite had given hers before and had not gotten 
another, not knowing that it only brought her so far. Had she 
known, she would have gotten off, as her money was very limited, 
and she was beginning to feel hungry. 

Where do you want to go asked the conductor seeing she 
had no ticket. 

‘‘ To a large city where I have a frlend.^^ 

^^You mean the city of F well that’s a night’s run, 

don’t guess you want a sleeper, the fare please — two dollars.” 

She counted her money and did not have it, he watehed her, 
and said. 

^^Oh! well you haven’t it, you had better get off at the next 
station,” and passed on. In a few minutes the train stopped at a 
small village. Marguerite’s heart sank, she felt sure Poland did 
not liv^e there, but saw no hope of going furthur as the conduc- 
tor said to her. 

Come this is the place, hurry up, only five minutes here.” 

If you please, sir, will you take this bundle and the money, 
it isn’t mueh,'but it is all I have and I know my friend doesn’t 
live here, so please may I go on?” 

He looked at the bundle and smiled ; an old gentleman in a 
seat behind her, hoard their conversation, and handing over the 
fare said : Let her stay on.” 


38 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

Marguerite turned on him her sad eyes so full of thankful- 
ness, he felt already repaid. He soon noticed that her tired head 
was pillowed on her bundle and she was sleeping sweetly. One 
arm thrown above her head and the long curls falling over it ; 
and as he gazed in admiration at the innocent childlike face, a 
little sigh escapes her lips, and a shiver ran through her frame ; 
he carefully laid his great coat over her thinly clad form, she 
stirred, and her pretty mouth wreathed itself in smiles in ‘her 
dreams. 

Morning came and soon the great city of F where our 

heroine is to step from the train into a world yet unknown, 
like a Southern flower transplanted into a Northern clime, where 
blighting winds and snow, replace the warm sunshine and balmy 
air of the South. 

With as much grace as any high born lady might, she 
thanked the old gentleman for his kindness, put her shawl over 
her head and disappeared in the crowd. She soon began to feel 
very hungry, but she would keep on awhile, for if she could find 
Roland she thought he w'ould take her to his home and give her 
something nice to eat; so she walked on looking up at the many 
storied houses, until she began to think it would not be so easy to 
find Roland after all, she realized that the city was very large, 
and she too remembered there was more than one city, and a 
doubt entered her mind if this was the right one. Her task soon 
became irksome and hopeless, she wished herself back again in 
the hut by the lake, the world seemed so large, there were so 
many people, and not one of them she knew, and not one to care 
for her. At last exhausted she sank down on a stone step and 
began to cry, many of the people who passed by offered her 
money, and she knew they thought her a begger girl, but she 
didn’t want money and would shake her head. It was friends of 
which she now felt the need. IMany were the admiring glances of 
those who passed her by that day ; her beauty was of an uncom- 
mon type, and strange to say this uncultivated girl, attracted 


TRANSPLANTED, 


39 


those whose taste for the beautiful had been cultivated. A hand- 
somely dressed lady and her millionaire husband stopped to 
admire lier, the lady remarked, ^^How I would like to see that 
girl in a ruby velvet gown, what a picture she would make, a pity 
she has to go on the streets and beg.^^ 

An artist hurrying on his way, caught sight of her classic 
profile and stopped to sketch her while she leaned wearily against 
a post : saying to himself, A figure like that isn^t met up with 
every day.’^ 

Marguerite was murmuring a prayer to Heaven for help^ 
when a voice from a carriage quite close called to her, Little 
girl, please come nearer Oh, mamma, isn’t she beautiful!” a ray 
of hope, she went hastily to the glittering carriage, where a lady 
and her daughter peered out at her with words and smiles of 
admiration. ^^Oh mamma, let us take her home with us?” 

You forget yourself my daughter, waifs from the gutter are 
not fit for our home,” and a coin was tossed out as the carriage 
rolled on. The silver lay unheeded as Marguerite walked sadly 
away. Thus the day wore away. 


CHAPTER VI. 

CULTIVATED. 

Let fate do her worst ; there are relies of joy^ 

Bright dreams of the past tohich she eannot destroy; 

Which comes in the night time of sorrow and care, 

And bring hack the features that joy used to wear. 

Moore. 

We will not attempt to crowd into this brief story, the details 
of our heroine’s adventures, in the few days spent wandering 
homeless in the city. 


40 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER 

All through the first clay, her childish faith clung to the be- 
lief, that she would find Roland there, and to her trusting heart 
he would be a refuge from all trouble. She was too much a child 
and understood too little of the world and its ways, to feel any 
hesitancy or impropriety of throwing herself on Roland^s mercy, 
or doubting his willingness to take care of her. But after a day 
of disappointment, hunger and cold, she knew she must dosome- 
^ thing besides wander there looking for him, so she tried all next 
day for work and found that willingness to do, was not all that 
was required to secure a place; experience and recommendations 
were needed, and she had neither. 

Hard were her trials^ and as night came on again, she felt 
she must surely die alone, although surrounded by a surging sea 
of humanity, she would make one more appeal, she saw a kind- 
faced woman in a little shop near by, and stopped to ask if she 
could give her work. No, she said it was mid-winter, trade dull, 
and nothing to require another hand. Marguerite still pleaded 
weren’t there dishes to wash, rooms to sweep, she would work for 
just a place to stay, it was so lonely and cold in the street, but no, 
it was no use, and she went out again into the windy night. It 
was now almost nine o’clock, the streets were bright with electric 
lights and the places she passed looked inviting and warm inside, 
she felt herself almost warmed at sight of them. Music catches 
her ear, she stops a moment, it is before a concert hall, she goes 
to the door, then she sees a flight of stairs which lead up to where 
the music is, she remembered how Roland talked of the beautiful 
singers, how he told her she might be one if she was tauglit, and 
curious to hear, she glided noislessly up the broad stairway, and 
sat down to listen, forgetting herself and all her surroundings, 
forgetting her hunger and cold, in listening to what seemed to her 
the voices of the angels in Heaven floating over her head, she felt 
should she raise her eyes she would surely see them; but instead 
her head drooped lower and lower, until it rested on the step, her 
eyes were closed in slumber and beautiful visions of Heaven and 


CULTIVATED. 


41 


lost loved ones. How long she slept, she knew not, but when 
consciousness came, she thought she was not dreaming, she must 
be in another world than that where the winds were so cold, and 
the people so unkind, for she heard sweet kind voices so close 
about her, and felt warm and comfortable, she dreaded to open 
her eyes lest it should all vanish and leave her again to the mer- 
ciless wwld. 

Isif t she beautiful, just like a picture^ look at her hair and 
what pretty dimpled arms and tapering fingers. 

Yes,^^ answered another voice. ^^She might be a princess 
in dis2:uise.'^ 

‘‘If I knew she could sing I would adopt her at once,^^ said 
another. 

“ Just like you, Mildred, people as charitable as you, should 
keep an orphan asylum, instead of a conservatory of music.^^ 

Maggie felt the jostling of the crowd and knew she had 
been asleep, and it was the people coming from the concert, she 
raised herself in a half wild and startled manner, turning on 
those about her such eyes as one seldom sees, they went straight 
to the heart of Madam Vargrave, who asked her name, where 
she lived and soon learned her sad story; at its conclusion, she 
placed her own warm cloak around Marguerite, taking her with 
her into her carriage, and Madam Vargrave^s friends could not 
blame her much, she had always been very charitable ; she had 

come to the city of F some years age, and held the position 

of vocalist in the leading conservatory, and lived in a cosy little 
cottage on a fashionable street, every one loved the kind sad faced 
lady, and every thing she did always seemed right. 

This proved an end to Marguerite’s troubles, she found here 
a very happy home, and a strong friendship grew up between 
them. Madam Vargrave soon began to think she could not get 
along without Marguerite. At first she had her help in the 
dining room, but grew so fond of her she could no longer let her 


42 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

take a servant’s place. Although Marguerite was very happy 
and grateful in her position, she was happier when she was 
sent to school, and learned so rapidly that Mrs. Vargrave was 
very proud of her and gave her still better advantages. Mrs. 
Vargrave went out early to her place of duty, came home for 
lunch and went back again. As she came in one day earlier 
than usual, she heard a strange sweet melody coming from the 
direction of Marguerite’s room. She walked softly to the lialf 
closed door and saw Maggie sitting alone with her eyes filled 
with tears, and singing such sad sweet strains as only she and 
the birds can sing. This was the first time Mrs. Vargrave had 
heard her voice and she was struck with its unusual sweetness. 
A moment thus and Madam entered so softly and folded the girl 
in her arms, almost before she knew any one was near. She 
had been thinking of loved and lost ones. Madam understood 
her loneliness and consoled her as a gentle mother would do. 

^^Tell me, Marguerite what is it that makes you sad 

Auntie Mildred, forgive me, you have done so much for 
me here, I could not ask for more ; but while I sat here all alone 
looking out of the window, somehow the day and the perfume 
from those violets on the table there brought it all back, such a 
happy evening I spent with some one long ago and Auntie if he 
were only here I would be perfectly happy. But Auntie, I love 
you and am grateful for all you do for me.’^ 

^^Yes, dear, I know you love me and I’m sorry to see you 
cling to some one who is perhaps not worthy of you, or has long 
ago forgotten you.” 

She had often spoke of Eoland Lee to Madam, who had 
little faith that he meant to be true to Marguerite, she wished to 
erase him from her mind if possible. 

^^Oh! if you only knew him and could once look into h:s 
honest blue eyes, you would not say he was not true.” 


CULTIVATED. 43 

Well dear, never mind about that now, but would you like 
to have your voice cultivated ? 

Arms about her neck and dozens of kisses answered Yes — 
and from this time on, life was a blissful reality to Marguerite ; 
Madam through those few notes heard a voice she knew was 
capable of almost anything to which a voice could attain, and 
Marguerite took the deepest interest and applied herself closely 
for she remembered Roland had wished she might learn to sing ; 
so she proved a diligent student, and when Madam saw how she 
applied herself and bent every energy to her studies, she looked 
further in the future for her to a time when she would bring her 
before her friends and see their surprise at the fine voice of the 
little beggar girl they had watched asleep on the steps descending 
from Harmony Hall. 

JMrs. Vargrave had grown to love Maggie very much, and 
w^hen she looked at her beautiful face and perfect figure, she 
knew sometime when she was an accomplished young lady she 
would have lovers as other girls, and she spoke to her of such 
things; but Maggie would say. No she would have no lover but 
Roland Lee and Madam would tell her she was then a child and 
the friendship he had shown her, was doubtless just to pass away 
a few idle moments, he perhaps was married by now, and if not, 
he may have forgotten her, and when she would see the sad dis- 
appointed look that would pass over her face, she would wish to 
please her by saying, she would have a lover some day that she 
would think more of than Roland Lee. 

Marguerite would shake her head and run away to hide the 
tears. 

The thought that Roland had forgotten her was a bitter 
one. And when the sound of some heart breaking song whose 
plaintive strains seemed to come from the depths of a disappoint- 
ed heart reached Madams ears, she knew too well her words had 
only awakened afresh the memory of one she wished her to for- 
get. 


44 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

The mind will in its worst despair, still wander o^er the 
past, on moments of delight that were too beautiful to last.^^ 

The day’s duties over the good nights said, and in the 
seclusion of her own chamber, a little white robed figure knelt 
each night in prayer. And one petition never failed to ascend a 
blessing always asked for Roland Lee 

A few, Ah ! would there were many — as faithful. 


CHAPTER VII. 

APPRECIATED. 

A voice soft and sweet as a tune that one knows 
Something in her there was^ set you thinking of those 
Strange backgrounds of Raphael . . that hectic and deep 
Brief twilight in which Southern suns fall asleep. 

Lucile. 

Five years have flown by and wrought many changes, as we 
look again at our hero and heroine, fortune has smiled on Roland 
in the way of worldly possessions, he is wealthy, but a few gray 
hairs are scattered through the fair locks in his temples, and his 
face wears a settled sadness. 

It is a warm Spring morning, and reminds Roland of such 
a day long ago. He and Mr. Morrell are starting on a profes- 
sional tour, they are warmer friends than ever, and each quite 
necessary to the other’s happiness. 

Marguerite has finished her studies and laid them aside, she 
is now the world in society around which the smaller planets 
revolve, her voice alone would win worshipers at her shrine, but 
added to that is an uncommon beauty, her long curls no longer 
blow about her shoulders; but are smoothly made into a fashion- 
able coiffure on top of her shapely head, her complexion is free 
from any hint of sun burn, leaving the roses in the fairest of 
cheeks, her figure has gracefully rounded into that of a woman, 


APPRECIATED. 


45 


her eyes are still the same trustful brown ones which go to the 
heart of those they rest on, and stamp all she says with sincerity. 

This is the evening of a charity concert, Marguerite is to 
sing, which announcement is enough to crowd the house to its 
utmost capacity. 

There is nothing delights her more, than to assist in work 
for the poor, she enters into it with her whole sympathetic soul. 

Just now she is putting on the last touches to her toilet, and 
she is not thinking of the poor or the concert, No ! but to her mind 
something more important still, something Vvdiich causes her to 
forget for a time every thing else, and think more seriously than 
everjbefore. She has promised to answer Yes, or No, to that great 
question in every girPs life. 

Eugene Vontress, a wealthy bachelor, had fallen in love with 
Marguerite when she sang at her first concert, and he has been 
her constant adorer ever since then, and pleads now for a favora- 
ble answer, she did not love him and had told him this, but he 
like many others, believed he could win her love when once she 
was his own ; true he was an elegant gentleman, and considered 
a good match for any one. Marguerite was sorry, she could not 
give Eoland Lee up forever and love some one else, and after all 
she thought she might do so she had the greatest respect for this 
man, and Mrs. Vargrave desired her to accept him ; but again her 
heart sank, her decision wavered. If Roland did love her, if he 
would only come to her, and the memory of his last words, that 
he would come again, and the blue eyes Avere before her so true, 
the memory of it all came to her as a refreshing shower to April 
flowers, an oasis in the desert in which she felt herself wandering, 
but on the other hand came the thought, should she be so selfish? 
it was her desire not to marry Eugene Vontress, or any one but 
Roland, but she thought of those who had done so much for her, 
and to whom she owed her very life, it was but right she should 
sacrifice her own feelings and desires for theirs, and true it might 
be as Mrs. Vargrave had said, it was long ago she had seen 


46 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

Roland, she was then a cliild, and perhaps it was only a fancy of 
hers that he loved her; her mind was made up she would marry 
Eugene Vontress, no matter what came of it, but she would tell 
him of Roland Lee first. The bell rings, he is here, and she must 
go down. As she entered, he went forward eagerly and caught 
her hand in his, while he surveyed her from head to foot ; how 
her fresh beauty seemed to strike him as never before, in this sim- 
ple costume of pure white India silk ‘Hhe clinging robes fell 
around the perfect limbs and seemed as though they loved the 
form they clierished.^^ 

Marguerite, my darling,’^ he pleaded ^^yoii have kept me 
waiting for so long a time, say you will be mine and let me place 
this on your finger,^^ he said showing her a beautiful diamond. 
^^Not now’^ she begged with sweet shyness, have something 
to tell you first’^ and she told him about Roland Lee and his 
visit to their humble home, and how she had always believed in 
his love for her, but he only laughed at her romantic childish 
notion, and told her she must know too much of the world by 
now, to believe that he loved her or meant what he said, so she 
again thought she might be mistaken, for his words were just 
like Auntie^s, so she allowed him to place the sparkling diamond 
on her finger, but as he drew her nearer to press the first kiss on 
her cheek, she remembered one that was passionately pressed 
there long ago, and she drew away, whispering not yet, as before. 

Roland Lee and Mr. Morrell, had arrived in the city of 

F on the evening train from D They sat smoking at the 

hotel De Maverick across from Harmony Hall, the concert had 
begun and the music attracted their attention. 

That’s a good voice ! ” exclaimed Roland, Let us go over?” 
agreed, and they walked leisurely across finishing their cigars 
and listening to the music, but when they entered the door 
Roland grasped Mr. Morrell’s arm so firmly, he turned to see 
him pale and startled. 


APPRECIATED. 


47 


God!^^ he cried has the same wild pathos, it can be 
no other, it is her voice — her voice/^ he cried excitedly and 
sprang up the steps in his eagerness to see the singer. 

‘‘Impossible, my boy,^^ said Mr. Morrell trying to bring him 
to reason again, and when Roland saw the singer, he could see 
no likeness in this superb creature to his tanned and ragged little 
beauty ; so in silence they were seated, bat as the voice rang out 
clear and sweet again, he knew it must be the same, it had the 
same wild sweet melody. Could it be hers ? Slowly raising his 
eyes he found Marguerite’s resting steadily on him and for one 
instant their eyes met; “My Marguerite,” he whispered. She 
turned pale as death and for a moment faltered, an anxious feel- 
ing w^ent through her hearers, she seemed to be losing her 
composure, “Will she fail ?” What can be the matter! but in 
an instant the feeling passed, a flush overspread her face, she 
regained her composure and sung the remaining strains as she had 
never sung before, an encore long and enthusiastic, followed ; 
Would she not return? Surely she must, but she did not, the 
concert was finished without her — for all behind the scenes was 
confusion, Marguerite was faint, sick, she was trembling and 
white, she must go home, so she was tenderly lifted into the 
carriage, and Mrs. Vargrave and Eugene Vontress with anxious 
faces saw her safely home. All she wanted was quiet and rest 
and they left her alone as she desired, after being left alone she 
sat up and began thinking of what had happened, Roland was 
really here, he had recognized her, oh ! how near she came fail- 
ing, how her breath seemed to stop when she raised her eyes to 
his, she longed to rush to him, but she was no longer a child, 
and besides why was she so foolish, perhaps he had given her 
no thought since they separated, perhaps he was married, five 
long years had passed by, but something in his look made her 
heart still hope, then she reasoned that the look was because she 
was so changed, and had grown so much taller, now her gowns 
were made by a stylish dress-maker, then granny Ryan made 


48 MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

them. Oh ! happy days ; and now she knew more of the world 
and it wasn’t all true as it appeared to her then, Yes, they must 
be right, and she resolved to be more sensible ; getting up from 
her chair quite ashamed of her behavior, she slipped through the 
parlor door through which she saw Aunty and Eugene sitting 
wdtli wondering anxious faces, which amused her, she burst in 
upon them with a merry laugh which gave them both a start, 
she told them it was only nervousness and had all passed oif and 
she was quite well again. Mr. Vontress soon said good-night 
and when gone, she told Auntie Mildred all about it and showed 
her the ring Eugene Vontress had placed on her finger, saying, 
^^Now Auntie, if Koland should be true?” 

Next day a card was brought her, and she read the name 
Roland Lee,” it almost dropped from her fingers. At first she 
felt she could never meet him indifferently or as an old friend ; 
but only as her dear Roland of long ago, but she remembered 
how many years had passed by, and how many changes might 
have taken place in his heart since he told her he loved her, so 
she strove to hide every emotion that might betray her true 
feeling for him, and meet him indifferently as an old friend. 

Roland too remembered the changes that might have been 
made in her heart, he had noticed the diamond sparkling on her 
finger and the news of her engagement had reached his ears, but 
still he could not tear himself away without seeing her even 
though her heart and hand were promised to another, and her 
presence would only awaken afresh his old love all in vain. 

With every nerve strained for composure he mets INIarguerite 
in a formal greeting, took her cold hand in his, talked of different 
things and asked how she likes city life; she replied in a dangerous 
way for him. 

Oh ! I like it, but I sometimes long for a glimpse of my 
old life again, to be once more in my boat on the lake and have 
one long tramp in the fresh wild woods.” She had said too 


APPRECIATED. 49 

much and her lips trembled, he wondered — he hoped she was 
thinking of those rambles and boat rides with him. 

‘‘ But you would not exchange the new life for the old ? 

Yes, if it were possible, but that cannot be, there is no one 
left there now,^^ and tears gathered in her eyes. Boland was 
angry with himself and wished he had not dared so much, but 
he doubted if she" was quite happy and he must know. 

For old friendship’s sake will you not tell me how your 
change came about?” 

Could he but know of those long weary days she spent 
looking for him, her face grew crimson she felt he was waiting 
for an answer, she could not tell him and her face drooped down in 
confusion, he wondered at her, for her old self was all frankness, 
but he went on determined to know the truth. 

I hope my friend is quite happy here ? ” 

Glad of anything to evade the former question she answered 
quickly. Oh ! Yes, I’m very happy,” but she sighed and tears 
stood in her eyes. Her heart was always touched with thoughts 
of the past and now she felt she could stand it no longer. 

You must be very happy,” ventured Roland longing to 
hear it from her own lips if she loved another. 

^^You are I am told, betrothed to one who loves you 
devotedly and you are soon to be a happy bride,” 

This was more than she could bear. 

Oh ! Mr. Lee I do not love him how can you be so unkind !” 
and she hid her face in her hands and burst into tears, Roland 
bent over her, his heart beat fast, what joy these words and tears 
brought to him. 

Can it be true, my darling, my own Marguerite, that you 
love me still ? My heart has been breaking fgr you these long 
weary years.” And pressing her to his heart he kissed the tears 
away and begged further assurance that she still loved him. 
Laying her warm cheek against his own, she told him of the 


50 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

long weary hours spent in search of him and her trials after 
leaving the old place, then he knew how true she had been. 
Her heart was full of joy and sorrow, when he told her how he 
had gone for her to the cottage and found it deserted, and after 
so many years her voice had at last guided him to her. 

I knew not then that fate had lent 
Such tones to one of mortal birth ; 

I knew not then that Heaven had sent 
A voice^ a form like thine on earth 

And now she would soon be all his own, for had he not 
loved her longer than anyone else; she then remembered her 
promise and the ring, and a shadow crossed her face as she involun- 
tarily glanced at the hand on which she wore it. 

It is true you are engaged ? 

Yes, this ring was placed here last night.’^ 

But you will not marry him. Marguerite?’^ 

^^No, I cannot, I told him of you.” 

Brave, true hearted little girl. But are you sure you do 
not love him, Margie?” 

Oh ! yes, I’m quite sure of that, and have told him often,” 
she replied in her old, honest fashion. So many things they had 
to say to each other, that before Roland left, his formal call had 
lengthened into several hours, ere he said good bye until to-mor- 
row, when he would come again and bring with him his partner 
who had shared his sorrows, and now must share his joy. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


131 


A MARGUERITE IN FULL BLOOM. 

""Olil joy^ oh rapture unforseen 
Ihe clouded sky is now serene.'’^ 

Pinafore. 

Marguerite weut with flying feet through the house, up the 
stairs, into the dining room, sitting room, slamming doors behind 
her in a frenzy of delight, in search of Madame Vargrave, com- 
ing upon her in the little study, she threw her arms around her 
neck in a fashion to take away her breath. 

^‘Oh ! Aunty, he has really come 

^‘Who has come? You have almost frightened my senses 
away.^^ 

‘^Roland, Aunty and he loves me still, and Pm going to be 
his wife, and if s all so lovely.^^ 

This came all in one last breath and she stood panting with 
her hand on her fluttering heart, and cheeks glowing like live 
coals. 

^^Well, Marguerite you certainly look like a romping child 
just now, and not my dignified young lady,^^ and she thought 
those eyes are surely hers^^ and just now she could not find it in 
her heart to throw a damper on such joy as this, however, much 
she thought and feared lest it should be an unsuitable marriage; 
who might this Roland Lee be? who knew if he was a suitable 
husband for this pure girl, and she shuddered at the thought of 
him being otherwise when she saw how Marguerite had wrapt her 
affections about him. 

Aunty, he is coming again to-morrow, and you will see him 
and like him, and his partner is coming with him ; you know 
Roland has told him about me and he wants to see me,^^ and she 
chatted away in this happy fashion, 

must send Mr. Vontress the ring, poor Eugene, but he 
wonT mind very much, I know/^ and she was gone as quickly as 
she came, nothing could daunt her now, sending the ring back 
was a mere trifle with her. 


62 * MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

‘‘I feel helpless. What can I do? what is best?^^ sighed 
Mrs. Vargrave. To turn such a torrent of love as Marguerite 
lias in her heart for that man, is something that baffles me, to 
forbid it would ruin her happiness, for I know her well and know 
her love is no light thing, but I will wait until I see him and hope 
forthebest.^^ 

Mrs. Vargrave dreaded this meeting more than she could 
tell, Marguerite had given glowing descriptions of him, but if he 
should be unworthy of Marguerite, she could never give her 
consent to their marriage, and it would cause the first difference 
between them, and that was a bitter thought, still she could not 
see one who had grown as dear to her as her own child, link 
herself with one beneath her. 

Next day at the appointed time, Eoland and Mr. Morrell 
came. Mrs. Vargrave was nervous; Marguerite was in a flutter 
of delight, and felt like running into the hall as they entered, 
but maintained her dignity with an effort by squeezing Auntie 
Mildred’s hand until she almost screamed. 

Roland entered first and was introduced to Mrs. Vargrave 
who with a look of surprise at this spendid specimen of manhood, 
took his outstretched hand in a cordial welcome, and turned for 
an introduction to his partner — but with bewildered staring eyes 
she stood trembling and pale. He looked as though a spirit from 
the other world had suddenly appeared. 

Alfred she cried. 

Mildred, my wife ! and they were clasped in each others^ 
arms. Marguerite and Roland only half understood the scene, and 
looked at each other for an explanation, Eoland spoke first. 

‘^Mr. MorrelFs lost wife!^^ 

Can it be true this is Auntie’s husband ? The joys your 
coming has brought us.” Yes, it was true husband and wife were 
re-united. 


A MARGUERITE IN FULL BLOOM. 


53 


The greetings and exclamations over, then they each told of 
their escape from a watery grave, after the ship in which they 
sailed for America went down ; and of course a great deal was to 
be talked over of their life since then, so Marguerite and Koland 
slipped off to the study unnoticed, leaving them to enjoy them- 
selves together, and all there seemed lacking to make their 
happiness complete, was the absence of their little daughter 
Mabel. 

Mr. Morrell gave such a good account of Roland that Mrs. 
Vargrave was relieved of all her anxious feelings concerning 
their union. 

The hours slipped by unheeded — until Marguerite and 
Roland entered again, and with smiles and mysterious looks 
seated themselves, Marguerite dropping on alow seat by Mrs. 
Vargrave — clasping her arms about her, looking earnestly into 
her fece and occasionally stealing a sly glance at Mr. Morrell. 

Roland began; Marguerite brought with her from her old 
home on the lake, some old documents which Mr. Ryan left in 
her care when he died. She gave them to me this evening to 
look over, and here is something I find which will interest you 
both, in fact, all of us; he produced an old paper and began 
reading. 

The winter of 18 — my wife Mary Ryan and myself got 

aboard the Nueces at bound for America ; there was 

among other passengers a lady and gentleman, accompanied by a 
little child, the names were Mr. and Mrs. and Mabel Morrell. 

On the night of the 28th of December 18 — , a fearful storm 
wrecked the vessel. A few escaped, but most of the crew and 
passengers were drowned. My wife and I were among the ones 
taken into the life boat. We were but a few minutes in our 
small craft tossing helplessly about, when the sliip we had 


54 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 

abandoned, sunk. Soon afterwards we saw by a blaze of lighten- 
ing something floating near us, and recognized at once the dark 
curls that rose on the waves to be those of little Mabel Morrell 
the pet of every one aboard, and we at once turned every effort 
in the direction of saving her, and succeeded. When first taken 
in she seemed past doing anything for, but we felt her heart 
beat faintly, and one of the sailors had a flask of brandy, with 
which we rubbed her wrists, and then forced a few drops between 
her teeth, after which she soon regained consciousness. We were 
driven about and tossed helplessly on the waves till day break, 
when the storm hfad calmed down, and we saw not far away a 
large ocean steamer. After attracting the attention of those on 
its deck, they took us aboard, the Steamer was bound for the 
United States. My wife and I took the best care of little Mabel 
and grew more and more attached to her, and when we landed 
there seemed no more rightful owner to her than Mary and I. 
So we brought her with us here to our little home and have cared 
for her as best we could, so long that she seems like our own 
child, we grew afraid that some relative might hear she was alive 
and come for her, so we changed her name to ours and her given 
name to Maggie, Maggie Ryan.^^ She has been our only com- 
fort and joy, but we are old and when we pass away there may 
be no one to care for her, and we write this that she may know 
who her parents are/^ 

Marguerite’s clasp had grown tighter around her mother, 
and her head was pillowed on her bosom and glad tears shone in 
her eyes, but it was the father beside her now, kissing her fore- 
head and turning her sweet face up — to find there the same sweet 
eyes of his little daughter and hear her exclaim affectionately : 
^*My father and mother !” 

Roland quietly left them to enjoy a glad re-union of a long 
separated family. 

On the following day, after arrangments were made for an 


A MARGUERITE IN FULL BLOOM. 


65 


early wedding, Eoland went home again, had everything put in 
readiness at his elegant little home where he was to return with 
his bride, and it was not long until he was on his way to the city 
of F again. 

Mrs. Zuber was surprised and delighted, at this beautiful 
and accomplished creature, of whom Roland had always spoken 
of as his nut brown beauty — his wild flower, and could this 
superb creature with real liv-e complexion through which the 
warm red glowed in cheeks and lips, soft brown eyes and wavy 
locks on temples and brow be the same ? 

Roland^s careworn and sad look had vanished, and he seemed 
again himself young and happy, and his proudest, happiest 
moment was when he led his beautiful bride, into their home and 
saw the expressions of delight and appreciation of everything, 
when he told her it had been ready and waiting for her for five 
long years, she realized how great his love was, and putting her 
arms around his neck, lifting her rosy mouth for a kiss, he was 
repaid for waiting had the length of time been twice that many 
years. 

The following summer they visited the spot of their first 
meeting, Marguerite’s old home on the lake, where many pleasant 
and to Marguerite many sad memories arose. 

Roland had the resting places of the old people marked by 
marble pillars, and Marguerite’s hands planted flowers about 
their graves. 

All the old familiar paths were traversed, the same nodding 
flowers grew along the way ; the ferns in the glens as fresh, the 
violets filling the air with perfume as sweet, the frogs croaked as 
loud, and it looked the self same crow with its jet black plumage 
and hard glistening beak, that cawed at them from the dead 
cedar, when they sat there on the rocks that warm summer day 
so many years ago. 


56 


MARGUERITE, OR A WILD FLOWER. 


At Roland^s earnest request, Marguerite dressed herself in 
the short ragged frock she had worn when he first saw her, turned 
her brown curls loose to the wind, pushed herself out on the lake 
in a rough canoe, and standing against the brown rocks as he had 
seen and loved her first, he had her portrait made in oil. 

It now occupies a conspicuous place on their study wall, and 
and the inscription beneath is Marguerite, or a wild flower.^^ 


The End. 





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